The Stone That Never Came Down Read Online Free Page B

religion.” Randolph chuckled.
    Kneller echoed him, but the sound rang hollow, and after a pause Randolph added, “I–uh–I don’t suppose there’s been any news of him, has there?”
    Kneller shook his head. “Arthur, I really do feel we should notify the police, you know. After all, he’s been missing since Monday, without a word of explanation or apology.”
    “I told you before,” Randolph said. “If you do that, you risk losing him completely. I can’t imagine him being overjoyed, can you, if the police come hunting for him and all he’s done is go off quietly by himself to think for a while?”
    “You’ve said that before,” Kneller countered stubbornly. “The more time goes by, the less I believe you. It simply isn’t like Maurice to vanish this way. And nobody knows what’s become of him. His landlady hasn’t seen hide or hair of him, he hasn’t been in touch with his sister at Folkestone, nor with any of his professional colleagues–I mean apart from us. And he doesn’t seem to have any private friends to speak of, and he doesn’t belong to a church, and … I don’t see any alternative, really I don’t.” He tugged at his beard. It was grizzled, and out of style now that razor-sales were back to their previous peak, and several people had said it made him look older than his years. But he had worn it since his mid-twenties, and did not feel inclined to abandon it after more than a quarter-century.
    Turning to his desk and gesturing for Randolph to sit down, he pursued, “Tell me candidly, Arthur. Has Maurice done or said anything recently to indicate he might have been–well–overworking?”
    With a wave of his hand to acknowledge the tactful equivalent of “had a nervous breakdown”, Randolph answered, “I wouldn’t have said so. He’s always been a funny sort of person, like most confirmed bachelors: a bit irritable, a bit unpredictable … Of course, lately he has been very upset about the state of the world. But isn’t everybody who bothers to pay attention?”
    Kneller gave a wry grimace at that. “I know what you mean! Every damned day the news seems to get worse, doesn’t it? You saw that they found a poor devil of a Pakistani beaten to death in a park in Birmingham?”
    “I did indeed. And what’s more I noticed it in the ‘News in Brief’ column. We’re in a hell of a mess, aren’t we, when something like that doesn’t make headlines on the front page? But it’s not the crimes of violence that scare me. I mean, not the small crimes of violence. I’m worried about the big ones. The kind that could stem from this crisis in Italy, for example.”
    Kneller shrugged. “What do you expect in a country where it’s practically a matter of honour to lie about your income and avoid paying tax? Small wonder they’re going broke!”
    “That’s only the half of it. When the Italians signed the Treaty of Rome they expected to be a net food-exporting country. Within a few years they’d become net importers. So of course they’re being bled white by the subsidies given to inefficient farmers in other countries. So are we, come to that. If they do decide to try and pull Italy out of the Common Market, close their frontiers and reimpose protective tariffs … Well, the Treaty of Rome is meant to be irrevocable, isn’t it?”
    “Was it Maurice who sold that line of argument to you?” Kneller demanded.
    Randolph looked faintly surprised. “Come to think of it, it must have been. A week or two ago. Why, was he talking about it to you?”
    “He did say something about the Third World War being more likely to start that way than by a clash between East and West, or rich and poor. But that’s not quite the point. I recall you as having been a fervent pro-Market man ever since we first met.”
    “Well, I still am!” Randolph declared with a hint of belligerence. “But if the system is this badly mismanaged … I do have to confess, though, that the way Maurice put his